


Not a Hug

by Reioka



Series: Reioka's Tumblr Prompts [11]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cuddle-Slut Tony Stark, Feel-good, Gen, Tony Stark Cuddles, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 04:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reioka/pseuds/Reioka
Summary: Tony has always been touch-starved. Luckily, the Avengers are there to give him the cuddles he can't ask for.





	Not a Hug

**Author's Note:**

> Title courtesy of thealextheshipper over on Tumblr. This is from a prompt: can i prompt touch starved tony who loves any and all physical contact he has? someone puts a hand on his shoulder? amazing! someone lens into his side at movie night? the best! someone actually hugs him? omg! the avengers start to notice and perhaps do something about it?
> 
> Tony is a puppy. He soaks up affection like a sponge. (I threw in some Bucky because I wanted sleepy, helpless Tony.)

Not a Hug

 

Natasha noticed first. She had a leg up on everyone though, having been sent to spy on him. She’d noticed when Pepper would reach out to casually touch him—a pat on the shoulder, playing with his hair, sliding her foot up his calf—and Tony would look  _ecstatic._  At least, as ecstatic as an emotionally constipated person could look. At first she’d thought it was flirting, and Tony was happy to finally have it reciprocated.

 

But then Jim Rhodes had stopped by and swept Tony up into a hug that brought his feet off the ground, and Tony had made a happy little noise that had…  _done something_  to her heart. While Rhodes was visiting, it seemed like they were always touching, whether it was an arm over Tony’s shoulders or Tony pressing his feet against Rhodes’s thigh.

 

Happy was touchy-feely with Tony, too. Even after boxing matches, when they were both bruised and sometimes bloody but always smiling, they’d lean their shoulders together, or Happy would be escorting Tony somewhere and keep a hand on his elbow. Tony didn’t even fuss, even though usually he would bitch about not needing anyone’s protection.

 

“He’s touch-starved,” Pepper informed her one day, which meant she hadn’t actually been as surreptitious as she’d thought she’d been. The redhead raised an eyebrow, her smile taking on a challenging tinge. “You should try it, sometime.”

 

Natasha had never turned down a challenge in her life. She’d never expected a challenge to  _change_  her life, though.

 

.-.-.-.

 

Tony was curled up on the couch, tapping away at his tablet. Steve had walked over and was going to sit on the other side of the couch.

 

Steve screamed when Natasha took a running leap past him onto the couch to curl around Tony. “Natasha what the  _fuck?!_ ”

 

“This is mine,” she snarled, extending a foot toward him threateningly.

 

Tony snuggled down into her arms, humming happily. “What brought this on?”

 

“I haven’t slept in three days.”

 

Steve was horrified and also impressed, because he never would have guessed that she hadn’t slept in that long.

 

“Well, you can sleep on me, I guess,” Tony said, patting her on the head.

 

“…Can I sit on the couch?” Steve asked after a moment.

 

“No, it’s mine too,” Natasha grumbled.

 

“You’re not even using the entire couch!”

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Go ahead, Steve. I’ve got her.” He stroked his hand through her hair and snuggled into her side more. “She can’t get you if she’s got me.”

 

Steve slowly lowered himself onto the couch. Natasha kicked him lightly in the shoulder but quickly curled herself back around Tony, so he just rolled his eyes and went back to his sketchbook.

 

.-.-.-.

 

Bruce avoided touching people. It was something he’d always done, even before the accident. He didn’t particularly like being touched as a rule as well, and the accident  _had_  exacerbated that. He blamed a lot of it on his childhood.

 

He still felt awful when he slapped Tony’s hand off of his arm and the brunet just…  _shrank._  He looked chastised and crushed all at once and he had never felt more like he’d kicked a defenseless animal in his  _life._

 

After that, he didn’t go out of his way to touch other people, but… touching Tony? He could do that. He never sensed fear or anxiety rolling off of him. In fact, Tony showed a worrying lack of concern for the Hulk. Sometimes Bruce wondered if it was just the Hulk’s ability to heal that kept him from getting stress ulcers.

 

So when he was growing tired of the movie they were watching, and Tony was sitting next to him, Bruce just… slid his head down onto his shoulder. Tony froze, then began to tremble, and he worried he’d overstepped—but when he looked up, Tony was beaming at the TV. He wasn’t trembling from fear; he was  _vibrating with glee_.

_‘What’s with this guy,’_  Bruce wondered, but couldn’t help snuggling up against his shoulder anyway.

 

.-.-.-.

 

 “You should invite Tony to your nest,” Natasha suggested.

 

Clint scoffed. “Why should I?”

 

“It’s polite to invite people to your home once you know them well enough.”

 

Clint squinted at her. “Are you for real?”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Sometimes I think you say things just to fuck with me.”

 

Natasha shrugged, because she did, but this time she was serious.

 

So Clint swaggered into the workshop and said, “Hey, wanna come to my nest?”

 

Tony paused, arms full of wrenches and a screwdriver sticking out of his mouth.

 

Clint stared at him. “…What are you doing?”

 

“Wee-a-wanging,” the brunet mumbled.

 

“…Honestly, with some of the things I’ve heard, I’m kind of disappointed at how weird this  _isn’t,_ ” Clint admitted.

 

Tony shrugged, conceding. He dropped the wrenches where he stood, spit out the screwdriver, and tilted his head. “What are you talking about? Nest?”

 

“I am about to  _blow your mind_ ,” Clint insisted, grabbing his hand to drag him toward one of the vents. He expected Tony to tug his hand free and was surprised when the brunet just silently curled his fingers around his hand. That… that was so fucking  _sweet._

 

“Why are we about to crawl into my vents?” Tony asked, swinging their joined hands, as the archer whisked out a pocket knife and began unscrewing the vent screen.

 

The blond turned to blink at him owlishly. “You mean, you don’t know? I thought you would have kept tabs on us when you let us move in.”

 

Tony frowned at him. “I mean, I asked JARVIS to tell me if you guys were having trouble, but I do  _try_  not to be too invasive in the lives of people I don’t know.”

 

“I’m keeping you,” Clint decided, climbing up into the vent and then reaching out to help pull him up. To his surprise, the brunet didn’t actually need that much help. “Wh-?”

 

“I  _do_  actually do maintenance in these vents,” Tony said, amused. “It would be much harder if I couldn’t get into them.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Also the armor is actually heavy as fuck.”

 

Clint nodded, turning to lead the way. “ _That_  I can believe.”

 

“What’s that mean?” Tony asked, honestly curious.

 

“When you walk in the hellicarrier I can feel the vibrations from the weight of your steps.” He hadn’t noticed the first few times, figuring it was just the motors of the carrier acting up. Then he’d realized it only happened when Tony was walking. He’d been kind of horrified that the suit actually weighed that much.

 

“Well I can’t hover,” the brunet pointed out. “I put scorch marks on the floor and Fury hates thatohmyGod.”

 

Clint crawled into the circle of pillows and blankets. “Yup.”

 

“How long has this been here?!”

 

“As long as I have, probably.”

 

Tony hesitated outside of the nest. “…And you want me to get in it?”

 

“It’s more comfortable than it looks,” Clint insisted. He waved his hand at him impatiently. “Come on.”

 

“…Well, alright,” Tony muttered after a minute, crawling into the nest. He flopped down beside him and frowned. “…This is surprisingly soft.”

 

Clint had to keep from being smug. “I do try to keep my nests comfortable.” He reached out to grab his hand again, because that had been nice, and swallowed a squawk when the brunet just wriggled up against him, one long line of heat down his body.

 

This must have been why Natasha had suggested this. She never wanted to cuddle with him anymore. It was because she’d found a new cuddle partner in Tony. Clint was jealous for a fraction of a second, but then he was just pleased that she’d shared this with him. Tony was a  _way_  better cuddler than Natasha.

 

.-.-.-.

 

“We’re busy,” Thor heard Natasha say.

 

He turned, frowning, only to let out a startled noise when Clint flipped Tony over the back of the couch and into his lap. “Clinton!”

 

“Sorry,” Clint said, not sorry at all. “We’ve got a mission. It’s kind of time sensitive. Just cuddle him for a while okay?”

 

“Alright?” Thor replied, bewildered.

 

Tony watched them go with wide, sad eyes. “But  _we_  could cuddle.”

 

“Don’t look at him,” Natasha ordered when it appeared that Clint would. “He’s got his puppy eyes. Don’t look.”

 

Tony immediately scowled. “I wish you’d never become immune.”

 

Natasha scoffed and dragged Clint into the elevator. “I only needed Fury to scold me once to realize you use your powers for evil.”

 

Thor awkwardly shifted his book out from under the brunet. “Pardon me, Man of Iron. You’re sat on  _The Silmarillion._ ”

 

“Oh,” Tony said, frowning. “Sorry. I’ll just get out of your hair.”

 

“You need not,” Thor assured him. “I was merely in the middle of a sentence. You may stay, if you like.”

 

The brunet squirmed on his lap for a minute, then settled. “Well. If you say it’s alright.”

 

“Quite alright,” Thor said, nodding, and reached out to pat him on the head. He was then surprised when Tony squirmed around to sit in his lap instead, placing his head on his shoulder. “Are you quite comfortable?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Thor hummed and returned to his book, not giving it a second thought. Well, until he had finished the book and was ready to go find a new one. He patted Tony on the back. “Shield brother, I wish to obtain a new tome.”

 

“No,” Tony mumbled into his shoulder.

 

Thor stared down at his ruffled hair for a moment before beaming at him. “I see. Loki also used to love hugs when he was small. I am used to this.”

 

Tony squawked as the blond stood up, hooking his legs around him tightly and squeezing his eyes shut. When he realized he wasn’t falling, he blinked his eyes open slowly in confusion. He squawked again when he realized he was being held up by one big hand under his left thigh. “Are you holding me up with just one hand?!”

 

“Midgardians are tiny,” Thor explained, walking over to the bookcase. “You are not difficult to hold up.”

 

Tony would be more offended if he didn’t realize that basically all humans compared to Thor were small. He was mostly just incredibly happy that he didn’t have to stop hugging him. He snuggled his face into the blond’s neck, humming happily.

 

Thor turned from the bookcase and paused when he saw Steve standing in the doorway, staring at them. He glanced down at Tony, who was still happily cuddled against him like a Midgardian koala, then looked back up at the other man. “Greetings, Steven.”

 

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it. “…This isn’t even the weirdest thing I’ve seen him do,” he said after a minute.

 

“He’s quite cuddly,” Thor agreed, hiking the brunet higher on his hip.

 

Tony grumbled and threw his arms around his neck to keep from sliding back down again.

 

“…Not even the weirdest,” Steve repeated, and continued through the room without another word.

 

Thor wouldn’t lie; he quite enjoyed Tony clinging to him. There was no shame in a warrior relaxing around his shield brothers and sisters.

 

.-.-.-.

 

_“The mission has extended. Tony needs affection.”_

 

Steve squinted blearily at his ceiling. This wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d answered his cell phone. “What?”

_“This is important, Steve,”_  Natasha scolded.  _“Tony needs affection.”_

 

“Why are you telling me this at one o’clock in the morning?”

 

There was a long pause before Natasha said,  _“It’s eleven in the morning in Omsk.”_

 

It wasn’t an apology, but it was probably as close as he was going to get. “Why does Tony need affection from  _me?_ ”

_“Thor has gone to visit Jane, Clint is with me, and Bruce has gone on a lab binge because he’s not answering his phone. Tony has been without a hug for two days. Ever since we came to the tower, he has not gone that long without a hug.”_

 

Steve let out a quiet sigh. “Can it at least wait until the sun comes up?”

_“…Yes.”_

 

“Okay. Good luck with whatever you’re doing.”

_“Good night, Steve.”_

 

Steve grunted and turned the phone off, rolling under his covers again.

 

.-.-.-.

 

How did he show Tony affection?

 

Steve glared at his eggs. Everyone made it look so easy, by cuddling him or putting an arm around him, or even just tackling him onto the couch, in Natasha’s case. He was pretty sure that if he tackled Tony to the couch, he might actually break his ribs.

 

“Why the long face, Cap?” Tony asked over the rim of his coffee, voice gravely from lack of sleep.

 

Steve continued to glare at his eggs. He couldn’t just come out and say ‘I’ve been ordered to show you affection.’ That seemed like a bad idea.

 

“Did a hen kill you in another life?” the brunet mused.

 

“Maybe one did,” Steve mumbled, scowling.

 

Tony sat down in the seat next to him. “Then I guess we’ll have to avenge you.”

 

Steve sighed, at a loss, then reached out to grab the edge of the seat of the chair he was in and dragged it over to him.

 

Tony squawked. “If you make me spill my coffee, I’m going to strangle you and throw you down the garbage chute!”

 

“You couldn’t  _lift_  me to the garbage chute,” Steve scoffed, pressing his thigh to the older man’s.

 

“…I would get the suit,” Tony said after a moment. “And stop manhandling my seat.” He didn’t move away though.

 

Steve went back to his food, smiling a little. “Can you really call it manhandling if it took literally no effort?”

 

“Hey!” the brunet shouted, offended. “That—that’s-! I’m not weightless or anything! I have muscle! I am of average man weight! Just because you and Thor could use me in a one-armed bench press doesn’t mean that I don’t have substance!” He paused. “…Natasha couldn’t bench press me!”

 

Steve turned to raise an eyebrow at him. “You really believe Natasha couldn’t bench press you?”

 

Tony sank back in his seat, sulking. “…Well she  _wouldn’t,_  which is more than I can say for you and Thor.”

 

“You’re just mad that everyone on Instagram was calling you ‘adorable’ instead of ‘handsome.’”

 

“Shut up!” Tony snapped, because it was true. “I hate you!”

 

Steve just chuckled quietly, giving him a nudge with his knee. “Don’t lie. You love me.”

Tony snatched his toast to punish him.

 

.-.-.-.

 

Bucky was like a skittish animal. Steve and Natasha brain-stormed ways they could ease him into being comfortable. Natasha had suggest a cat, since they’d once seen Bucky stop to pet one, but Steve had vetoed that because they were superheroes and therefore even pets could be used against them. Bucky didn’t need that added worry.

 

Natasha watched Tony shuffle into the kitchen at two in the afternoon, more asleep than awake. He had his pajamas on and was grabbing down a bowl for some fruit salad. “I’ve found a better cat.”

 

“What?” Steve asked, and then watched as Tony missed the bowl completely, hitting the ground with a wet splat. Two grapes rolled away. “Huh.”

 

“Why,” Tony asked the mess sadly.

 

Natasha shoved Steve toward him. “Grab him, Steve.”

 

“Don’t say that like he’s going to run the fuck away,” Steve hissed back at her, then approached the older man cautiously. “Hey, Tony.”

 

“Steve,” Tony said sadly. “My bedtime snack.”

 

Steve nodded sympathetically, carefully sliding an arm around his waist. “Yeah, that sucks. Hey, how about I put you on the couch, and I’ll bring you a bowl myself? I’ll even clean this up.”

 

“It doesn’t even have blueberries in it and I still managed to make the situation worse,” the brunet lamented.

 

Steve lifted him up slowly, and Tony wrapped his legs around his waist just like he’d figured he would. “It’ll be okay, Tony.”

 

“It’s never going to be okay again.”

 

The blond had to try very hard not to laugh as he carried Tony into the living room. “Yes it will.”

 

Natasha had come in to keep Bucky from fleeing. Bucky hadn’t interacted with Tony much aside from when they’d first brought him back to the tower and was almost even  _more_  skittish in front of him because he was afraid he’d be kicked back out. He looked like he might still bolt when he saw him come in carrying Tony.

 

Steve had to hide a smirk. “Look, here’s someone to cuddle. I’ll bring you both some fruit salad.”

 

“Is it Natasha?” Tony mumbled, but didn’t actually care, instead cuddling up against Bucky’s side.

 

Bucky looked pained and whispered, “What are you doing?”

 

“Well, I’m setting Tony down before he gets too distressed,” Steve explained, not bothering to hide the smile from him. “And then I’m going to get you both a bowl of fruit salad.”

 

“With whipped cream,” Tony added, squinting up at him.

 

Steve sighed, amused. “Yeah, with whipped cream.”

“I don’t like whipped cream,” Bucky said helplessly, arm raised at an awkward angle to keep from being either squished or held around Tony.

 

Tony turned to glare up at him. “Who doesn’t like whipped cream? …What are you doing with your arm, why are you like this.” He grabbed the other man’s arm and wrapped it around him. “Asshole. It’s not like I have cooties or anything.”

 

Bucky watched Steve duck back into the kitchen so he could laugh at a distance, then looked up at Natasha pleadingly. “Help.”

 

“This will help soothe your soul,” Natasha informed him, then turned on her heel and also left the room.

 

Bucky made a high, angry noise before looking back down at Tony. Well. He did look happy to be snuggled up with him. He supposed he could put up with this until Tony left after he ate.

 

(Tony didn’t leave after he ate. He fell asleep with the bowl in his lap. Bucky felt the simultaneous need to thump him over the head for not taking better care of himself and to fuss over him because clearly he needed someone to take care of his dumb ass. Steve informed him that that’s how he felt about him regularly in the forties. He threw one of the bowls at Steve’s head.)


End file.
